


Hold Onto Me (I'm a Little Unsteady)

by RemyJane



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, Smut, concussion, migraines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 09:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11010420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RemyJane/pseuds/RemyJane
Summary: Alex felt a pang in his chest when he realized he was getting use to Nicky being absent from practice (and games, and everything). The sight of his stall, empty and unused, no longer caused him to frown. He was use to a different center, a different line up. There was a Nicklas Backstrom shaped hole in his world, and he was ok with it. He’d marked the edges carefully and he never bumbled into it unknowingly anymore.But the realization that he was accustomed to Nicky being gone, that still stung.---Alex and Nicky navigate concussions, migraines, dogs, and liking each other. It has its ups and downs.





	Hold Onto Me (I'm a Little Unsteady)

**Author's Note:**

> Can you call it a slow burn if they get together halfway through?
> 
> Also, there is a character with a bit of a pain kink and negotiations aren't explicitly stated- please assume they've already had this conversation.

Alex felt a pang in his chest when he realized he was getting use to Nicky being absent from practice (and games, and everything). The sight of his stall, empty and unused, no longer caused him to frown. He was use to a different center, a different line up. There was a Nicklas Backstrom shaped hole in his world, and he was ok with it. He’d marked the edges carefully and he never bumbled into it unknowingly anymore. 

But the realization that he was accustomed to Nicky being gone, that still stung. 

He was still chewing on that thought when he arrived home. Three of five dogs greeted him at the door, quieter than normal. Alex dropped his gear in the entry way, half-promising himself he'd pick it up later. 

“Missing two pups.” He said in Russian, patting the dogs. “Where are the others?” One dog whined, circling him and steering him towards the living room. The house was dark, the curtains pulled closed, though Alex distinctly remembered opening them in the morning. 

Stepping into the living room, he froze, heart threatening to explode in his chest. Nicky was curled on the couch, Ovi-dog laying in the bend of his knees and Gera curled up against his chest. Nicky had one arm wrapped around her, his face buried in her fur. It occurred to Alex to take a picture, blond curls standing out in the dim lighting. 

Ovi rested his head on Nicky’s hip, looking protective as he watched over the center. Chuck moved closer, to sniff or maybe lick, and Gera showed her teeth at him, warning him to stay away. Alex backed out of the room quietly, disappearing into the kitchen to deal with the emotions brewing in his chest. 

His kitchen offered a few more clues about Nicklas’ appearance on his sofa. There were his keys, Alex’s marked with a bright red key cover, but his car wasn't in the driveway, so Alex was relieved that he didn't drive himself. Alex’s electric tea kettle was out, a mug abandoned beside it with a tea bag ready. His jacket was hanging over a bar stool. The final piece, Nicklas’ phone was on the counter beside it. 

Bertha pawed at him, nudging him with her head. Alex sighed and dropped down to sit with her, rubbing her ears and talking quietly. She relished his attention, rolling over so he could scratch her belly. 

“So good.” He assured her. “Such a sweet girl.” She kissed his hand. He'd been planning to watch TV when he came home, but his living room was currently occupied. He ate an apple instead, before wandering back in. 

Nicky hadn't moved, and neither had his two guardians. Alex snorted; and Nicky claimed not to like dogs. 

Moving closer, Alex could see a faints crease between his brows, a tenseness that even sleep couldn't take away. Nicky was always quiet, but he'd almost disappeared since the concussion. Alex had only seen him once over the last three weeks. It had been at the arena when Nicky had been cleared, and then quickly uncleared, to train. Something about the fluorescent lights. 

Lost in his own thoughts, he barely noticed when Nicky squinted up at him. “Sorry.” He apologized, voice hoarse. 

“Is ok. Give you key for a reason.” Alex assured him. He sat down on the floor, back resting against the couch. “Surprised, but nice to see you.”

A gentle flush crept up Nicky’s cheeks. “A water main broke in front of my house.” He explained. “So, they're fixing it.” 

“Loud?” Alex asked sympathetically. 

“Very.” Nicky let his eyes fall closed again. “Shit, my head hurts…” he pressed his hands over his eyes. Alex’s stomach clenched; another thing he could count on one hand was the number of times Nicky complained about his own circumstances. Nicky had endless, sarcastic complaints about day-to-day life, but nothing about his own experience; if he hadn't been debilitated by the concussion, Alex doubted he would've said anything at all. 

“What you need?” Alex asked. Nicky gave a tight shake of his head. “Still have pills?” 

“S-shots.” Nicky corrected, tongue catching on the ‘S’ sound. “Jacket.” 

Alex was as quiet as possible when he left the room, finding the medicine in a small cartridge. He delicately carried it back to Nicky, who fumbled with it, barely able to open his eyes even in the dimly lit room. 

“Let me.” Alex decided. He pieced the device together and then paused, suddenly remembering he would have to stab Nicky. 

“Arm. Like a flu shot.” Nicklas coached, eyes still closed. He barely even flinched when the needle pierced his skin. Alex instinctively massaged his arm, feeling his face flush when the blond gave him a weak but reassuring smile. 

“I take dogs for walk, let you rest.” The ‘W’ word reverberated through the house and Alex’s pack assembled at the door, ready to go. Ovi seemed reluctant to leave Nicky, licking his hand apologetically before following after Alex. 

Alex tried hard not to think about the last time he’d seen Nicky on his couch, when his half-lidded expression had meant something entirely different; that was a year, a concussion, and too many vodkas ago. It was history. The memories still crept in, though, because Nicky hadn't been shy then, not even slightly. Alex turned the walk into a jog, much to the displeasure of his pack, trying to forget. 

He reminded the dogs to be quiet when they came back. Most headed to the mud room for water, but Ovi followed Alex back to the living room. 

Nicklas opened his eyes, looking up at him. “Hey.” He breathed. “Thanks for...just thanks.” He fumbled. 

“It's ok. It's good to see you. Miss you.” He patted him gently. “Move. My couch too.” 

Nicky chuckled and shifted. Instead of sitting by his feet, Alex sat at the other end of the couch, patting his thigh. “Best pillow.” He assured Nicky, grinning brightly at him. He looked confident, so long as Nicky couldn't feel his heart pounding out of his chest. 

Nicklas laid back down, head resting in Alex’s lap. Ovi curled up behind his knees, chin on his hip, watching Nicky carefully. 

“Which one’s that?” Nicky asked quietly after a bit. 

“Ovi.” Alex answered. 

Nicky snorted. “I should've known.” He was still for a while, dozing in and out. “I can head back home if you want.”

“No. Like you here.” Alex assured him. “You want lunch?” 

“Hmm.” Nicky hummed, shrugging. “Nothing crazy.” 

“You never want crazy.” He teased. Alex wasn't hungry yet and he guessed that Nicky was still nauseous, the unhealthy tinge to his cheeks lingering. And even if Alex was hungry, he had Nicky’s head in his lap; he wasn't moving until he had to. 

Nicky was quiet a bit longer, eyes heavy as he tried to stay awake. 

“How is your head doing?” Alex asked, unable to help himself. 

“Migraine’s gone.” 

“You get lot of migraines?” Alex asked. 

“Yeah. Uh, it's been…”, he swallowed thickly, “it's been pretty bad, actually.” He closed his eyes as his voice cracked. Alex felt like he'd swallowed a snowball whole, his throat tight and his gut icy cold. 

“Nicky…” he mumbled, threading his fingers into the curls at the back of Nicklas’ head, where the hair flipped up as it grew out longer. “You should tell me things.” 

“I-I know.” Nicky swiped his hand across his face, sleeve pulled down over his hand and clenched in his fist. “I didn't want to bother you.” 

“Never bother.” He massaged his scalp tenderly, fingers tracing patterns absently. “Silly, Nicky.” 

Nicklas’ shoulders hitched and Alex lost his breath at the sight of tears streaming down his face, dampening the leg of Alex’s sweat pants. 

“I'm sorry.” Nicky sat up, scrubbing at his cheeks. “Fuck, I'm sorry, I-” 

“Nicky, Nicky, Nicky…” Alex pulled him to his chest. Nicklas went easily, without the token protest he put forth for any of Alex’s suggestions. He wrapped his arm around him, tucking him in under his chin. “Is ok. Head will get better. Then we win Cup.” 

“Ok.” Nicky snuffled, melting against Alex’s side. 

Alex chuckled. “So, you like dogs now?” He asked, changing the subject. Nicky huffed out something that might've been a laugh, a watery smile playing at his lips. 

“They're ok.” He yielded. “Ovi is my favorite.” 

Alex pretended to be aghast. “Can't have favorites! Like children!” He teased, grinning victoriously when Nicky giggled. 

\---

Five days passed before he saw Nicklas again. His phone rang one morning, before an optional skate. He was at his breakfast bar, staring down a protein shake and omelette. 

“Hello?” He answered. 

“Hey.” Nicky’s voice sounded thin and taught. 

“You ok?”

“Are you busy?” Nicky asked, ignoring the question entirely. 

“No. You need something?” 

“Could you...could you pick up my meds? I can't drive and...I can't really see.” Alex felt a little numb hearing the pain in his friend’s voice. 

“Text me address.” 

The pharmacy was midway between Alex’s house and Nicky’s and he made good time. He only ran one red light, and it was barely red. Orange, at worst. 

He let himself into Nicky’s house, locking the door behind him again. The house was dark, shades drawn in all the rooms. Alex took his shoes off before padding up the stairs. 

Nicky’s bed was rumpled but empty, the Swede out of sight. Alex turned, reaching for his phone, when he heard retching from the bathroom. He pushed the ajar door open, its creaking announcing his arrival. 

Nicky was hunched over the toilet, shoulders shaking as he gagged. Alex deposited the medicine on the counter, rubbing his hand between his shoulder blades. He had nothing left to bring up, but that didn't stop the dry heaving. “Shh, Nicky. It's ok. It's ok.” He assured him gently. “You want drugs now?” 

Nicky nodded, one hand covering his eyes as the other clutched the rim of toilet with white knuckles. More efficiently than last time, Alex assembled the auto-injector and pressed it to Nicky’s bare arm. 

“Ok. Let's go to bed now.” Alex decided, keeping his voice soft. 

Nicky whined in protest, unable to do much more without triggering worsening nausea. Alex grabbed the bathroom trash can and held it in one hand while helping Nicky to his feet with the other. They stumbled together to the bed, a pitiful version of a three-legged race. Nicky clutched the trash can in both arms, puking again. 

Alex sat him on the edge of the bed, an arm around him to steady him. Nicky smelled of sweat and the rancid odor of vomit. His cheeks were stained with tears and his nose was running down his face. His hair and shirt were damp with sweat. And Alex wanted to kiss him. He settled for pressing his lips to the top of his head, inhaling his musky scent. 

“Oh, Nicky...you didn't tell me it was so bad.” He sighed. Nicky was shivering, either from a chill or from the effort of still being upright, Alex wasn't sure. 

Nicky couldn't answer. He bit his lip, biting back any response, any noise at all. His eyes welled over continuously. Alex maneuvered them until they were both laying down and Nicky was the small spoon. He pulled a pillow to his face and fought back sobs, body shaking with the effort. 

Alex traced his hand up and down his arm gently, murmuring to him in Russian. Nicklas calmed down as the medicine kicked in, taking away the powerful migraine he'd been held in the grip of. 

“I'm so sorry.” He whispered, wiping his face dry. “I- shit, did you miss practice?” 

“Is ok.You more important. It was optional, anyway.” Alex held him to his chest, trying to calm himself down. He'd never seen Nicky so vulnerable and he hated it; unbidden, his mind supplied him with the image of Nicky fighting with him for control, the feel of Nicky’s hands on his wrists. He pushed the thoughts away harshly; this was possibly the worst time for a boner. 

“Concussion makes migraines worse?” Alex guessed. 

“Yeah. It's not as bad as it was.” He admitted. “The shots work better than the pills to stop them.” Alex ached to think of something worse; this already drove Nicklas to tears. There was something else too, he realized. Nicky felt smaller in his arms. 

“You're losing weight.” He said. 

“Hard to keep food down.” Nicky chuckled darkly. “I'll be ok.” 

“I feed you before I go.” Alex decided. 

Nicklas sighed, looking up at him with a familiar put-upon expression. “I'll be ok.” He told him again. 

“Yes, because I feed.” Alex grinned. “You rest, I find food.” 

There was no food in the kitchen, at least, nothing suitable to make for lunch. Nicklas didn't have a grocery delivery service- he didn't like for people to do things for him. Alex sighed, running his hand through his hair before returning back upstairs. 

Nicky had his eyes closed, though he wasn't exactly asleep. Alex didn't ask permission for what he was about to do, he simply grabbed a nearby duffle bag and began packing clothes in it. 

“What are you doing?” Nicky asked, opening his eyes to watch him. 

“Packing.” 

A sigh. “Why?”

“So you have clothes.” Alex smiled to himself. 

“I have all my clothes here.” He said, bordering on exasperation. 

“Food at my house. And dogs.” Alex countered, turning to face him. 

“I don't like dogs. And I can get my own food.” Nicky propped himself up on his elbow. Undeterred, Alex continued to pack. 

“Head hurt still, you can stay with me. And you love dogs. Have picture to prove it.” Alex smirked as Nicklas groaned at him. 

“You know what? Fine.” Nicky laid back down on the bed. Alex faltered, studying him closely; Nicky was almost as stubborn as he was. He didn't know what to make of him giving in so easily. 

“Nicky?” Nicky waved a hand at him dismissively, arm draped over his face. “You ok?” 

“I'm ok.” He whispered. “I just don't feel good.” Alex put the bag down and sat on the edge of the bed. 

“I know. You need food, and dogs, maybe someone help you a little bit.” Alex said, trying to keep his voice low. He carded his fingers through Nicky’s hair. 

Nicklas nodded, eyes closed. “I’m sorry.” He breathed. “I'm sorry you have to put up with me.” 

Alex snorted, petting his head more firmly. He didn't think he imagined the way Nicklas leaned into the touch. “Silly, Nicky. Want to help.” And he missed him, God, he missed him. 

Nicky allowed himself to be bundled up and deposited in Alex’s car, bag full of clothes and necessities (and maybe some non-essentials as well) tucked away in the trunk. Alex made him wear sunglasses despite the overcast skies and he didn't even turn the radio on. 

Nicky was quiet the entire ride, staring out the window. It wasn't a long drive, and soon they pulled into Alex’s driveway. Nicky didn't protest when Alex snatched the bag away from him, not letting him carry it. 

The dogs greeted them at the door. Alex got distracted for a minute making sure all of them got the proper amount of affection. When he glanced up he caught a glimpse of Nicklas watching him, smile warm and fond before he looked away. 

“I show you bedroom.” Alex decided, shouldering the bag. 

“I have been here before.” Nicklas said dryly, though he did follow after him. Alex put him in his favorite spare bedroom, on the north side of the house so the sun didn't shine in the window. It wasn't the biggest room, but he liked how genuine it felt, like he hadn't had to try to make it look like a home. He didn't have the English to describe that. 

Instead, he unceremoniously dropped his bag by the closet and said, “Your room now.” 

“I have my own house.” Nicky reminded him, standing by his elbow, close enough they were almost touching. 

“Sure, sure. But this is your room now too. Take nap. I make food.” 

When Alex returned to wake Nicky, the Swede was stretched out on his stomach across the bed, arms tucked under the pillows. He sat on the edge of the bed, doing his best to be gentle as he roused him. 

“Nicky.” He whispered, hand on his shoulder. “Nicky, food.” 

Nicky sighed and turned his head, blinking sluggishly at him a few times before his eyes cleared. He still didn't look as sharp-eyed as he usually did on the ice, Alex noted sadly. 

“Ready to eat?” 

The blond nodded and pushed himself up, sitting on the edge of the bed next to Alex, their shoulders touching. Alex grinned at him and Nicky returned a thin smile of his own. 

Alex had made stew. It was hearty and dark and full of flavor, though not quite as good as his mother made it. Nicky finished his entire bowl, his cheeks rosy pink from the steam. 

“This is good.” He said, looking up. “I didn't know you cooked.” 

Alex rolled his eyes. “Just because you terrible cook, is not mean I am.” 

Nicky laughed, a sound that Alex treasured normally but now seemed especially rare. “Right, sorry. Thank you.” 

\---

Nicklas would never admit it, but staying with Alex was nice. For all that he was teased for being introverted and quiet, he liked being around people- just not large, loud groups of them for long periods of time. And though Alex had a reputation as being boisterous, in his own home, with no one else around, he wasn’t. He'd known Nicklas too long to need to show off for him anymore; they had too much history between them. 

Nicklas didn't trust his emotions, not since the concussion. He felt off-balance and shaken, vulnerable. His migraines left him feeling hollowed out, like his best parts had been scooped out of him with a melon baller. He felt needy and lonely and- he liked being by himself, but he didn't like being alone. 

Alex didn't know how to leave people alone, though. Alex filled the entire house with his presence, humming or singing off key as he meandered around doing chores. He talked to the dogs in Russian, carrying on an easy one-sided conversation. Even when Nicklas was by himself in another room, he wasn't lonely. 

It was unexpectedly pleasant. 

Nicklas had had migraines all his life, but the concussion must have jarred something loose, because they'd never been this frequent. He'd never had more than one in a month, and now he'd had two in less than a week. His doctor assured him it would either go back to normal or they would start him on preventative medications for it. 

He knew he hadn't been doing the best job functioning, but he thought he'd been doing ok. Not until Alex had declared his kitchen unfit for supporting life did he realize he hadn't bought groceries since the hit. 

Nicklas’ favorite place in Alex’s house was the bay window in the den. It looked out over the yard and it was just large enough, just soft enough, for a nap. The TV was too bright and the words in books too small, but the sunny backyard of Alex’s house was perfect to his damaged brain. 

“You like dogs?” Alex asked, waking Nicky just as he'd dozed off. Alex was only wearing sweatpants, the waistband of his underwear just visible above them. Nicklas had long ago told Alex he should join a nudist colony (a comment that prompted an unfortunate string of Google searches). 

“No.” Nicky shrugged. “But yours are ok.” He said after a pause, watching as Alex broke into a broad grin. 

“My dogs best.” He assured him. “Why don't you like?” 

Nicklas shifted, sitting up a bit straighter. “A dog bit me when I was little.” He pushed the sleeve of his jacket up and flipped his arm over, pointing to a series of faint scars. “Here. See?” 

Alex traced his fingers over the marks gently and Nicklas tried not to shiver. “Poor Nicky.” He shook his head. “My dogs never hurt you. They love their Nicky.” 

Nicklas smiled, unsure what to say. Alex was close enough that he could smell his scent, a distinct combination of soap, dogs, and deodorant. 

“I make chicken for dinner.” Alex told him. “You eat.” It wasn't a question; Nicklas had regained 5 pounds already since coming to Alex’s a few days earlier. And Alex was a surprisingly good cook; he'd learned quickly not to turn down an offer for food. 

It was impressive how much better Nicklas felt due to the combination of food and not being alone. It was not foolproof though. 

Halfway through dinner he noticed the strange, flashing aura that sometimes appeared to warn him of impending migraines. Really, it was neurons misfiring, but he preferred to think of it as a pretty warning. Not long after, the pain started behind his right eye. The kitchen seemed too bright, the formerly soft noises of Alex chatting with him and the dogs snuffling around looking for food too glaring. He tried to take steady breaths, but the pain spiked suddenly, catching him off-guard. 

As he tried to catch his breath, he failed to notice Alex moving until the Russian had his hands on Nicklas’ arms. “Ok, c’mon. Bed.” 

Alex guided him to his room, letting him keep his eyes closed. He handed Nicky his medicine and let him inject it himself; he barely noticed the sting of the needle. Then, he poured him into bed and pulled the covers up over him. Alex lingered over him for a long moment. Nicky could see an expression of concern on his face as his features swam into focus. 

“Sleep, Nicky.” He said, frown on his face. He pressed a chaste kiss to Nicklas’ forehead before leaving the room. Nicklas was only too happy to follow his instruction, closing his eyes and letting sleep overtake him while his headache faded away. 

Nicklas woke up in the same spot he fell asleep in, stiff from not moving. He could hear birds outside and it felt late, but Alex had dark curtains over the window and they were pulled tight. He heard the door creak and he smiled at the sight of a dog as he nudged it open further with his nose. 

He patted the bed beside him and the dog accepted the invitation. The dog curled up over his legs and Nicklas didn't have a good reason to move him. He drifted back to sleep, one hand resting on his head. 

“Ovi likes you.” Alex said, smiling from the doorway. Nicky blinked at him, dazed and heart pounding in his chest. “Best dog.” 

Oh. “Maybe he just likes the bed.” He said. 

“Maybe.” Alex said, like he didn't believe it. “Lunch.” 

Nicky dressed and followed him downstairs, tugging on a sweatshirt. Alex watched him eat his sandwich without talking until he was halfway done. 

“Leaving tomorrow for roadie.” Alex said, frowning. 

“Uh huh.” Nicky nodded. 

Alex shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his own food sitting untouched on his plate. “You want to stay here? Watch dogs? Or you can go home, if you want.”

Nicklas paused. “I can...I can watch the dogs.” He thought for a moment. “I don't know if I can walk them.” Nicky wasn't sure if he could walk five large dogs even if he wasn't concussed. He wasn't scared of them outright, but five energetic large dogs still made him nervous. 

“Dog person still come for that.” He was purposeful in avoiding the ‘W’ word, all the dogs keyed up after Nicky had slipped. “I make leftovers for you eat.” 

“I can-”

“You say that but I don't know.” Alex interrupted, voice flat, unimpressed. “I cook for you.”

Nicky folded quietly, because Alex had correctly pointed out that he hadn't been able to feed himself before coming to Alex’s. He felt better now than he had since the hit. “Thank you.” He forced himself to say, uncomfortable with anyone taking care of him. Especially Alex, who had already seen him so vulnerable and useless; Alex, who he still-

He stopped that train of thought. No point in going down that road again. 

Alex made a baked pasta dish and goulash. Nicky watched from the breakfast bar, head propped up in his hands. Alex had the windows open; it was unseasonably warm for February. He kept the overhead lights off though, casting worried looks at Nicklas from time to time. 

“You're ok?” He asked, pausing over the goulash. 

“Yeah.” Nicky nodded. 

“Head ok?”

“Yeah.” Nicky repeated. “You ok ?” He asked, turned the question around. 

“Best.” Alex answered. “But worry about you. You tell me if it gets worse?” 

“I'll tell you.” He promised. Alex beamed at him. 

“Good.” 

\---

“Do you have a secret girlfriend?” Alexander Semin asked, sidling up next to Alex and trying to catch a glimpse of his phone. Alex was only playing Angry Birds, but he hid the screen anyway; Sasha Semin didn't need to know about his addiction. 

“What? No. Why?” He frowned at him, eyebrows furrowing. 

“You've been looking at your phone a lot and smiling. If you were playing a game, you wouldn't be smiling, because you suck at all of them.” Alexander teased, speaking Russian. No one else bothered to listen anyway. 

“Maybe I'm better at games now.” He said loftily. He had been texting Nicky, who wasn't as sensitive to his phone screen now, so long as it was on the lowest setting. Alex had suggested wearing sunglasses and he swore he could feel Nicky roll his eyes from Boston. 

“If you were better, you would brag about it.” Alexander shot him down. “So, who are you texting? And do you have pictures?” 

Alex’s phone buzzed in his hand and he resisted the urge to check it. “God, you are nosy.” He pushed him away playfully. “Jealous?”

Alexander sputtered and Alex smiled to himself for successfully derailing the conversation. After Semin wandered off, Alex checked his phone and had to muffle his laughter. He'd received a picture of Nicky, wearing Alex’s oversized aviator sunglasses, and frowning at the camera and flipping him off. To the side, he could see the ear of one of his dogs. It was probably Ovi or Gera; they had become quite attached to Nicky over the last couple days. 

‘Good look 4 u’ he texted back, saving the picture to his phone. He considered setting the picture as his background, but it was highly likely one of his nosey teammates would see it. Nicky wouldn't want them to know he was actually hilarious. 

He didn't receive anymore texts from Nicky for the rest of the day. He worried something had happened or Nicky had gotten another migraine, or maybe he'd been eaten by the dogs. That last one was unlikely, though probably higher on Nicky’s list of fears than it was on Alex’s. 

Before he went to bed, he got another text. There was a picture of 4 dogs sleeping by the fireplace. Alex felt safe saving that one as his background, though Ovi was missing from the picture. The next text said ‘Good night. You better beat Boston tomorrow.’

‘We will.’ Alex sent back, smiling. 

He was ready to put his phone away when it buzzed again. ‘If you lose, I'm changing the locks.’ Alex laughed to himself, still smiling when he turned off the light and fell asleep. 

The next day was a normal game day. Breakfast, skate, lunch, nap, pre-game meeting and meal, the the big show. Boston was a fun place to play, though Alex wasn't fond of the traffic, which was something considering he lived in D.C, which had arguably the worst traffic in the country. But in D.C he could drive himself and in Boston he was stuck on charter buses. 

He'd gotten only one text from Nicky all day, a picture of the dogs in the backyard. A cold front was on the way and the backyard looked cold and gray, though it had been almost 60° before he’d left; he wasn't sure he'd ever get use to the temperamental weather in America. In Russia, there was snow all winter and the ponds stayed frozen. 

‘u watch game?’ Alex texted. 

‘I'll try.’ Nicky texted back just before the game. ‘So don't suck’

They won, though it was far from a beautiful win. Alex would take a scrappy, chippy win over any kind of lose, though. Points were points. After he'd finished his interview and gotten changed, he called Nicky as he made his way back to the bus. He sat in the front row and waved Alexander Semin away he tried to sit with him. 

“See, win for you.” Alex said in lieu of a proper greeting. “You watch?”

“Uhh, no. I listened, on the radio.” Alex had a great sound system but he also had a junky radio in his kitchen, because his mother had had a junky radio in her kitchen and it made him feel less homesick, listening to static-y broadcasts of sport events he didn't care about. 

“That's good. Better for head.” Alex said, leaning back in the seat. 

“I guess. I fell asleep, though. Did you score?” Nicky sounded sleepy and warm. Alex had the sudden urge to wrap him up in a blanket and hold him. 

Luckily there were several hundred miles between them, a buffer to prevent him from doing that. He'd held him when he’d been so miserably sick with a migraine, when Alex didn't know what to do to make it more bearable. But they hadn't done anything like that since Alex kidnapped Nicky with the intent of feeding him. 

“Fall asleep and miss best goal!” Alex teased. “I score in 3rd.”

“Oh.” Nicky yawned. “Sorry. Maybe I can watch when you play the Flyers.”

“Don't. Horrible orange too bad for eyes.” Alex teased. Nicky chuckled, sounding on the verge of falling asleep again. “Go to sleep.” 

“M’kay. Night, Sasha.” Nicky slurred. Alex’s rib cage felt like it was too tight, like his heart had swelled too much. His cheeks flushed pink. Nicky hadn't called him that since...Nicky hadn't called him that in over a year. 

\---

Two days later, the Capitals won over the Flyers 6-5, which was exhilarating but perhaps they needed to really work on their defense. He called Nicky from the bus again; he hadn't heard from him all day. 

“Nicky! You see game?” 

“Part of it.” Nicky rasped, voice hoarse. Alex frowned. “You were, uhh, you were right. A-about the orange.” Alex felt sick to his stomach, the hurt in Nicky’s voice, the palpable despair, cutting straight through his post-victory buzz.

“Nicky…”

“It's ok. Just...blame Giroux.” Alex thinks he must imagine a quiver in Nicky’s voice, but it makes him want to race back home, game against the Penguins be damned. He wants to be there, to be sure Nicky eats and takes his medicine, to do something. He feels useless, too far away to do anything. 

“Next time we play, I punch him.” He promised, if only to hear Nicky laugh, which he did. “Maybe not ready to watch TV yet.”

“I know.” Nicky sighed. “I hate this.”

“Me too.” Alex promised. 

\---

Nicky had and could take care of himself. He'd been doing it for long enough. He knew he needed to go upstairs and get his medicine and then, once his head felt like it wasn't being split in two, he needed to eat food. It was just the simple act of getting up and climbing the stairs. 

God, he felt so dizzy. 

He'd been doing better, was the thing. He wasn't sure what had triggered his first migraine after arriving at Alex’s house, but he knew what caused this; the bright, fast colors on the TV, that he apparently wasn't quite ready to handle. He felt like an idiot, he just- he'd wanted to see Alex play. 

He forced himself to sit up, stomach churning and eyes too sensitive to even open. The room swayed and he braced himself on the coffee table. Beside him, he heard Ovi whine at him. 

“I know. This is dumb.” He told the dog, in Swedish, though he didn't expect he understood. Well, he probably didn't understand English or much Russian, either. Fuck, Nicklas thought, he was not at his best. Ovi cocked his head at the strange sounds either way. 

Nicky crawled across the living room floor because standing was out of the question. Movement at all was pushing it. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, trying to compose himself. He couldn't die in Alex’s living room; that would be rude.

Ovi nudged him gently with his nose and then licked his face. “Stop it…” Nicky whined, gently pushing him away. Ovi licked him again and Nicklas decided he would rather haul his corpse up the stairs than continue to get bathed in dog slobber. 

He injected the medicine into his thigh and curled up on his bed, shaking with the effort it took to get this far. He drifted into a miserable half-sleep, only vaguely aware of Ovi coming to lay beside him. The dog was warm and solid and it put an end to the constant spinning. Nicklas counted his breaths until he finally fell asleep. 

He woke up in the early morning, hungry and feeling immensely better than he had the night before. He brushed his teeth and let the dogs out, wrapping his arms around him to keep out the chill; they were calling for snow that day. Nicky hoped it stayed cloudy, because the blinding white of sun on snow would surely aggravate his brain. 

Alex had a surprisingly large collection of classical music and Nicky selected a few discs to listen to. Even with Alex gone, he still didn't feel lonely. Maybe it had something to do with the five dogs, or maybe it was because Alex’s house so embodied the man that it was impossible to be truly alone. 

He turned on the gas fire place and let the dogs in, smiling as they dog piled in front of it, falling asleep. Nicky kept the lights dim and listened to gentle music while he made tea; he sat by the fire, feeling steady and well. Not just comparatively better, but actually healthy. He knew if he was subjected to too much stimulus, the illusion would shatter, but this he could handle. 

He even dared to read one of the books that had caught his eye from the den. The words came into focus easily enough and he read for almost an hour before his head started to ache. At least it wasn't a migraine. 

He closed the book on his chest, arms wrapped around it, and laid back against the deep cushions of the couch. Nicklas’ house felt like it was playing at being a house and somehow Alex’s had become a home. Maybe it was because Alex had thrown himself into his house, hadn't cared if things matched, only if he'd loved them, whereas Nicklas had tried to make his into something he'd seen in a magazine, something that wasn't uniquely his own. 

He loved his house, but he felt lonely there and he didn't here; that had to mean something. Pondering that put him to sleep and when he woke up, he had a text from Alex and the snow was falling outside. He considered going back to sleep, but Alex had sent him a picture of a sandwich that definitely didn't have a place in their diet plan, with Evgeni Malkin in the background. That merited a response. 

He was too lazy to text, his eyes too tired to focus on his phone screen, so he called. 

“Hello?” Alex answered, sounding confused. 

“You know he's the enemy, right?” Nicklas said. Alex laughed, open and happy.

“No, no, Zhenya best Penguin.” 

“That's not saying much.” Nicky teased, closing his eyes and smiling to himself. He could hear shuffling over the phone and then the chatter of background noises disappeared. 

“You doing better?” Alex asked. 

“Yeah.”

“Good, good.” Alex said. 

“I read a book. Just a little. Why do you have so many history books?” Nicky asked, curious; they're was an entire shelf dedicated to historical books, in English and Russian. That said, there was an entire bookcase for books about hockey, nutrition, and exercise science. 

“Because, interesting. Good for learning English.” Alex said. “Head gets better, maybe you learn Russian.” 

The idea of learning another language was enough to make his head spin. “I'll stick with Swedish and English.” Nicky smiled. 

“So sad. Russian best language.” Alex said with mock despair. 

Nicky hummed. “Maybe you'll have to teach me.” He compromised. 

“Yes, best idea!” Alex laughed. Then, more seriously. “You really ok? You tell me if it gets worse?”

“I really do feel ok.” He promised. “I know if I tried to do too much, it would be bad, but right now I feel good.” 

“Good. You rest, relax. We win games for you.” Alex assured him. “I have sauna, in my bathroom. You should try.” 

“You have a sauna?” Nicky said, interested. “I didn't know that.”

“Yes, best. You use, good for relax.” Alex told him. 

“That sounds good. Thank you.” He said earnestly. 

\---

Evgeni was smiling mischievously when Alex walked back in. Alex cut him off when he opened his mouth. “Nicky is watching my dogs.” He said, in Russian. That wasn't what they'd been talking about, but Alex didn't need to explain to anyone why talking to Nicky made his stomach flutter. He was trying not to think about it. 

“Uh huh.” Evgeni made a disbelieving noise. “Sure. How is he doing?” Alex was caught off-guard by the concern, until he remembered that Crosby was still out with a concussion. Evgeni looked sympathetic. 

“I don't know. I think he's ok? But Nicky doesn't like to talk about that.” Alex admitted. 

“Not even to you? Weren't you two-”

“That was a long time ago.” Alex interrupted. “And it didn't go anywhere.”

“That's because you're dumb.” Evgeni chided. “And you freaked out.” He shook his head at him. 

Alex felt his cheeks flushing despite his best efforts. He and Evgeni were always oscillating between friendship and animosity; last year they'd been very close. And Alex may have been very drunk, one night in Pittsburgh not long after-

“That's beside the point.” Alex scowled, glancing around. He was fairly sure no one could be eavesdropping, they were speaking Russian, and quietly too. “It's-”

“If you says ‘it's complicated’, I will throw you in a river.” Evgeni deadpanned as they left the diner. They bundled up in their coats, elbows bumping as they made their way back to the car. “Any idiot can see that he likes you.” 

“I don't.”

Evgeni smiled at him warmly, almost a brotherly affection- it had been a while since they'd played each other- and laughed. “You're not just any idiot. You're a very special one.” Alex rolled his eyes. “He's living in your house! What's stopping you?” 

“He's hurt!” Alex said, insides feeling pinched. Nicky was not, had never been, vulnerable. He was strong, dry, sarcastic, witty, invincible, and a million other things, some good some bad, but he'd never been vulnerable before. Alex had never seen him cry before. It made him want to tiptoe around him, made him want to wrap him in pillows and feed him food. He just wanted his Nicky back. 

“I know, I know. But he's concussed, not brain dead. I'm sure you two could talk about this.”

“There's no ‘this’ to talk about. Nicky is Nicky and I'm me. And we didn't work together. That's the end.” 

Evgeni cast his eyes upward at the ceiling of his car for a moment, muttering under his breath, to himself or God, maybe asking for him to smite Alex. He continued driving, easily navigating the streets of Pittsburgh. 

“Where are you taking me? You can't throw me in a river just to win the game.” He smirked, feeling rewarded when Evgeni snorted. 

“Ice cream. You’re acting like a child.” 

“So you're getting me ice cream?” 

Evgeni smiled, pulling into a parking lot. “No. I'm getting me ice cream, as a reward for not throwing you in a river.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “Also, we’re going to beat you tomorrow anyway.” 

Alex felt overly full when he got back to the hotel, but happy. He collapsed on his bed and pulled out his phone to play with. He took a selfie and, without thinking, sent it to Nicky. ‘Zhenya feed me 2 much food’. 

He didn't expect a response, but a couple minutes later he got a text back. And a picture. It was Nicky, just his face, though Alex could tell he was shirtless by the bare sliver of shoulder visible. His hair was wet and stringy as it clung to his face and his cheeks were flushed bright red. ‘He's trying to cheat. I hope you destroy him tomorrow. And thank you for letting me use your sauna.’ 

Alex tried very hard not to think about the fact that Nicky had sent him a picture where he was shirtless (naked?) and sinfully flushed. It was probably from the combination of the sauna, the shower, and Nicky’s fair, Swedish skin, Alex reasoned. But. But, it could be from something else. It could easily be from something else. 

Alex tried not to think about it, because if he thought about it too hard- well, his roomie would be back soon. Random hard-one were a thing, sometimes, but Alex was too old for that excuse. He saved the picture anyway. Just in case. 

Alex woke up acutely aware that he would be returning home after the game that night, which meant he would see Nicky. He tried to channel the bright energy that gave him into his game day routine. 

They ended up losing the game by one, with Evgeni being credited with the game-winning goal. Alex scowled at him across the ice; that was why they only talked before games. 

When he checked his phone on the bus, he only had texts from his parents, reassuring him that they'd seen his game and were still proud of him. He typed out a polite response and closed his eyes, napping on the way to the airport. It was a string of various modes of transportation, a bus to a plane to a bus to his car before he could finally go home. 

He tried to be quiet when he entered the house, shushing the pack of dogs that met him at the door. “Shhh, you’ll wake Nicky.” He told them. Their tails thwapped loudly against the wall and Alex’s leg as they showered him with affection (and drool). 

Alex deposited his gear and headed to the kitchen for a snack. When he turned back around from the fridge, Nicky was standing there, looking rumpled and half-asleep. 

Alex nearly dropped his sandwich. “Fuck! You scare me.” He laughed, startled. “Why you awake?” 

Nicky shrugged, sitting at the breakfast bar. “I fell asleep on the couch.” He admitted. 

Alex smiled at him fondly. Maybe it was the late hour, or the way Nicky’s hair was tangled and mussed, but he wanted- he wanted something more. It pulled at his heart fiercely; he wanted Nicky.

“Dogs keep you warm?” He asked. There were strands of dog hair on Nicky’s jacket. It made it look like he belonged there in Alex's house. 

“Yeah. They're ok, I guess.” Nicky said, hiding a smile. His elbow was resting on the counter, head heavy in his hands. “I listened to the game.” 

Alex winced. “Sorry.”

He shrugged. “S’okay. They're not a bad team.” Nicky yawned, politely turning his head and covering his mouth. 

“Next game.” Alex assured him. “You should go to sleep.” 

“Hmm.” Nicky shrugged, considering the suggestion. “All I do is sleep. It's boring.” 

“Concussion not suppose to be fun.” Alex agreed. Nicky shook his head, palms flattening on the counter. Alex could see the tension in his forearms, a sudden flattening of his mouth. “You ok?”

“Dizzy.” Nicky admitted, blinking to clear his vision. 

“Because you need sleep.” Alex decided. “I walk you upstairs.” He expected Nicky to protest, to declare that he didn't need assistance, but he didn't. The blond was tight-lipped as they made their way upstairs, one white-knuckled hand clenching on the stair rail while Alex held the other. He crawled into bed under Alex’s watchful eye, collapsing into the pillows. 

“Thank you.” Nicky whispered.

“Good night, Nicky.” Alex said, standing in the doorway. He closed the door behind him and decided to go to bed himself. 

Nothing was out of place in his room, no sign that someone else had passed through the space, but it felt different knowing that Nicky had used his sauna. He shook his head; he needed to stop thinking like that and go to sleep. 

\---

The next day, Alex was mercifully allowed to sleep in. There was no practice scheduled, and he had no obligations. He woke up a little before 11AM and contemplated if he should eat breakfast or lunch. Finally, he levered himself out of bed, muscles sore from the game, and trod downstairs. 

He expected to see Nicky, but he didn't expect to see Nicky sitting on the second to the bottom step, blond head bowed. 

“Nicky?” He hurried to his side. “You ok? You fall?” 

“No, sorry. I'm ok.” Nicky apologized, not lifting his head. 

“Sitting on steps, maybe not so ok.” Alex speculated, sitting beside him. He caught a glimpse of Nicky smiling. 

“I was stupid, and now I'm dizzy.” He admitted. 

“What did you do?” 

“Nothing...” He began. Alex snorted. “Almost nothing. I thought I could walk on the treadmill.” 

“Just walk?” 

A redness crept across his cheeks, spilling down from his nose. “At first.” 

“Nicky!” He admonished. “You have to listen to trainers.” Alex had heard an English expression about pots calling kettles black; he thought of it then. 

Nicky looked at him sideways. “I know, it was stupid. But walking was fine.” 

“You have headache?” He asked. 

“A little. Not a migraine, though.” He tacked on quickly. Alex sighed, putting an arm around his shoulders. Nicky leaned in against him, maybe seeking steadiness. 

“Ok. You go rest. I make lunch. No running.” He told him. Nicky protested mildly as Alex steered him to the living room and deposited him on the couch. “Sit. Stay.” He teased. 

“I'm not a dog.” Nicky said flatly. 

“No. Dog listens.” Alex teased. He draped a blanket over him. Outside it was snowing again, clouds hanging low in the sky, heavy with precipitation. 

Alex stared at the fridge for a moment before deciding it was more of a breakfast kind of day. Specifically, a waffle kind of day, though Alex had made the argument that any day was waffle day. 

He presented the meal to Nicky, setting the plates on the coffee table. “We eat here today.” He decided. Nicky sat up slowly, movement carefully controlled. 

“Blueberries?” He asked. Alex nodded. “It smells good.” 

“Taste good too. Eat. Brain needs food to heal.” He pointed his fork at Nicky’s plate before taking a bite of his own food. They breakfasted in silence. Alex scarfed down his waffles and Nicky took small, measured bites of his. 

They ended up on the couch afterwards, Nicky sprawled across Alex's lap. The Swede had his eyes closed, possibly trying to stave off the lingering dizziness. Alex could feel the tension slowly ebbing out of his body as he drifted closer to sleep. He ran his fingers through his hair and Nicky was boneless, melting under his touch. Alex did it again, fingernails scraping across his scalp. Nicky blinked up at him, eyes hazy and half-open. 

“Is ok?” Alex asked. 

“Yeah. Feels good.” Nicky answered, voice slightly rough and husky. Alex shifted. He kept dragging his fingers through his hair until Nicky was asleep. 

When they’d been younger, Nicklas would have never fallen asleep like this. He'd been so self-composed and rigid. Years of Alex worming into his life had culminated a few years prior, when Nicky had finally, finally, fallen asleep at Alex’s, stretched out on the couch. It had taken time for him to earn Nicky’s trust, his enduring friendship. 

Last year...well, he'd almost ruined it last year. He wasn't sure what it meant that so little had changed. They still relied on each other, stayed close friends. Alex decided not to question his luck and he never asked Nicky about it; they never spoke of it at all. 

Nicky napped for an hour and didn't move once he'd woken up. Alex still had his hand tangled in his hair, feet propped up on the coffee table with the TV on low. “What are you watching?” He finally asked. 

“Is about whales.”

“Why?”

Alex shrugged. “Whales quiet.” He said. He didn't have an actual reason, he'd just been flipping through channels and something about the beautiful, warm ocean had caught his attention. Maybe it was just the stark contrast to the current weather. He could hear the gentle sound of sleet against the windows. 

Nicky nodded, closing his eyes again. Alex’s foot was asleep, had been for a long while, but he had no intention of remedying that. Nicky looked too peaceful. 

“Do you want me to go home?” Nicky asked quietly after a while. 

“No.” Alex answered without thinking. Looking down, he saw the blond smile, lips tugging upwards fondly. 

“Ok.” His features were soft and unguarded, eyelashes casting shadows on his pink cheeks. 

“You want to go?” Alex asked, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth. 

“No.” Nicky said. Alex smiled, running his hand through his hair again. They lapsed into silence once more. Alex found himself dozing off to the narrator's soothing lull. Just as he was almost completely out, he felt Nicky grab his other hand, holding it. 

\---

D.C was a southern city and southern cities, as it turns out, did not handle winter weather well. Alex scoffed at the idea that anything less than a foot of snow could merit cancelling events, but he did concede that the half-inch of ice was difficult to navigate. 

He considered getting his skates out, but thought better of it. 

Practice had been cancelled because the road conditions were too poor, which was how Alex found himself in his basement gym while Nicky walked on the treadmill and critiqued him. 

“Was that your knee?! I could hear it from here.” Nicky frowned. “Keep your back straight.” 

Alex rolled his eyes. “Shut up and walk.” He grunted between sets. 

Nicky turned his attention to his own limited exercise after that, bumping up the incline and speed when he thought Alex wasn't looking. Alex kept an eye on him though, alert for the familiar uncomfortable expression Nicky got on his face when something was wrong, but it never manifested. 

Alex checked his watch; it had been 30 minutes. “All done. Head ok?” 

“Yeah.” Nicky said, sounding pleasantly surprised. “I could keep going.”

“Trainer say only half hour.” Alex pushed the stop button. “So bad at listening, Nicky.” He studied him, but he saw no evidence of dizziness or unsteadiness at all. “Sauna?” He offered. 

Nicky nodded, careful as he dismounted the treadmill. “That sounds nice.” 

Alex admittedly did not think this through, because otherwise he would've considered if he should allow himself to be in such close proximity to Nicklas when they were both naked. He saw him naked plenty during the season, so often that he didn't notice it, but it was different in his house, in his bathroom...it was different when it was his towel, with his initials, that slipped low on Nicky’s hips as he stepped inside. 

“You ok?” Nicky asked, folding his towel before sitting on it. 

“Good. You ok? Head really doesn't hurt?”

“I feel good.” Nicky assured him, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes. His hair was wet from his pre-sauna rinse and his skin was starting to develop a rosy glow. Alex pried his eyes off of him and stared at the floor. 

“Good, good.” There was a stepwise protocol for athletes coming back from a concussion, increasing in intensity assuming no symptoms manifested. If he had no more problems, it would be less than a week until he returned to play. And when that happened, Alex presumed he wouldn't want or need to live at Alex’s anymore. After all, he had his own house and his own space. He'd be able to drive and brave the grocery store on his own. 

Of course Alex wanted Nicky to return to the team and be healthy. He just- he liked having him in his house. Alex didn't like being alone; he'd gotten five dogs, which filled the void, but as full of character as they were, they couldn't quite carry on a conversation. 

“After the roads are better, I should probably go home.” Nicky said quietly. “All my gear is there.”

Alex nodded. “You start skate soon, probably.”

“Hopefully.” Nicky smiled. “We’ll see.” He kept any trace of optimism out of his tone ; Alex referred to it as his ‘Media Voice’. 

They sat in silence for another 10 minutes before Alex decided he was done. Nicky was flushed red and melting against the wall, looking like he could fall asleep. Alex standing prompted Nicky to move as well, following him into the relative cool of the bathroom. 

“I'm shower.” Alex said, wiping his face. Nicky nodded, tongue flicking over his lower lip, eyes drinking Alex in. Alex felt all his blood rush to his cock and he dropped his towel a bit lower to conceal it. 

“Ok.” Nicky said cooly, averting his gaze. Alex wanted to kiss him until his lips were swollen and pink, until he made breathless noises and begged for more. 

Instead, he took a cold shower. Well, first he jerked off, trying not to think about Nicky’s lips, then he took a cold shower. He only had so much willpower, and he'd used it all up. 

He dressed and came back downstairs, finding Nicky and Gera curled up on the couch. Nicky was wearing a hoody with Cyrillic lettering on the back; Alex wasn't sure when he'd claimed it, but he liked the look of his name stretching out over Nicky’s shoulders. 

“Gera miss you when you leave.” He said, sitting beside them. 

“She's sweet.” Nicky said, scratching her behind the ears. 

“Told you you like dogs. My dogs best.” 

Nicky laughed, smiling at him. He fell quiet, dozing in and out. Alex left the TV off, picking up a book from the coffee table. He read a couple chapters before he felt eyes on him. 

Looking up, he met Nicky’s gaze, green eyes erudite and calm as a morning sea. “Yeah?” He asked, raising his eyebrows like a challenge; Nicky wasn't reckless like Alex, but he didn't back down. 

“What?” Nicky asked, smiling. He knew what, Alex thought. He damn well knew what. Nicky never did anything thoughtlessly, at least not that Alex had seen. He sat up, stretching, back popping. Alex’s name pulled taut across his shoulders. 

“What?” Alex parroted. 

Nicky rolled his eyes. He was still smiling, dangerous as a shark. Something danced in his eyes and Alex was almost captivated by them, by Nicky, but he snapped out of it. 

“Alex…” Nicky sighed, clearly put-upon. “Are we going to talk about this?” ‘This time’. The unsaid words hung in the air, heavily implied. Alex didn't know what to say, because last time he'd decided Nicky was too precious a thing to trust himself with at 26. Nicky could be eternal and Alex knew he was too young, too impetuous and impatient to be everything Nicky deserved. 

He wasn't sure he had high hopes for 27 at this point either, though he knew 30 was lurking ever closer. He didn't feel older, though, didn't feel more mature. Nicky, two years his junior, had been more mature at 18 than Alex was now. Nicky, who was looking at him like he had a plan, like he looked on the ice when he could see plays before they happened. 

Alex trusted him on the ice. He'd have to trust him here, too. 

“Talk about what?” He said, because he couldn't give in that easily. Nicky sighed at him, heavy and obvious. Alex didn't mind; Nicky sighed at him all the time. 

“Sasha…” Nicky leaned towards him, legs crossed on the sofa. He looked young, hair in his face because it refused to stay tucked behind his ears. “Don't play dumb.” 

“Not playing.” He smirked. “What you want to say?” 

Nicky made a frustrated noise, air whistling through his teeth with no heat, and surged forward, kissing Alex. 

That. 

That caught Alex off-guard. Nicky bit at his lip, not a gentle kiss. His tongue darted across Alex’s lips, soothing the skin he'd nipped. Alex’s head spun and as soon as it had begun, it was over. Nicky leaned back, appraising him. His cheeks were flushed and lips wet. 

Alex was sure he looked worse. His lip throbbed faintly where- where Nicky bit him. He touched his mouth and Nicky smirked. 

“I’d be nicer if you were.” He teased, green eyes laughing. 

Alex grabbed him by his shirt and dragged him into him, covering his mouth with his own. Nicky was pliant in his hands, malleable. Alex got the impression that this was exactly what Nicky wanted, that he'd played right into the blond’s plan. He didn't care. He bracketed Nicky in, arms on either side of him, hands tangled in his hair. He tugged and Nicky’s head fell back easily, exposing the elegant line of his throat. 

Alex would've been a fool not to bite it. 

He did it again, because the noise Nicky made was like nothing he'd heard before. He pulled his hair harder and Nicky went limp, panting, hands scrambling for purchase. Oh. 

Oh. 

Alex had them laying flat on the couch, his body pressed against Nicklas. Nicky’s devilish hands were tracing up his sides, fingers learning every inch of Alex again. Alex felt goosebumps form, like a ripple from his touch. He ground down into him, chasing friction. Nicky groaned in his ear, hard against his hip. 

Alex had kissed plenty of people and he could be gentle. He could be sweet, could take his time. But Nicky didn't want that; Nicky bit back. Alex rucked up his shirt, biting into Nicklas’ mouth and grinding against him. 

“Sasha…” Nicky panted, breathless. “C’mon.” He urged. 

“What do you want?” Alex asked, barely parting their lips enough to speak. Nicky tried to fix him in a stern look, but he looked utterly debauched and Alex hadn't even undressed him yet. 

“I don't want to cum in my pants.” Alex laughed; leave it to Nicky to master looking both like the embodiment of sin and annoyed. He considered it. He could make him. He could tear Nicky apart without ever taking his clothes off. 

But Alex also wanted to follow the flush of his face, to see how far down it went. He wanted to pepper him with kisses and he wanted to taste him. He pulled back enough to gracelessly yank Nicky’s shirt off. 

Nicky stared up at him with fiery eyes, waiting, his talented fingers dipping just below the waist of Alex’s sweatpants, eyebrows raising when he realized there was nothing underneath. Alex flashed a toothy smile and then pulled Nicky’s pants and boxer-briefs down in one swift movement, freeing his leaking cock. 

“So easy for me.” He purred. He licked the underside of his dick from base to tip and Nicky’s fingers tangled in his hair, not quite pulling. 

“Fuck!” He swore, barely keeping his hips from bucking. Alex draped his left arm low over his waist, holding him down firmly. He licked him again, catching the bead of precum at his tip “Oh my god, Sasha, yes.” Nicky panted. 

Alex swallowed him down and was rewarded with a keening whine as Nicky’s body jolted like he'd been electrocuted. He could undo him completely with only his mouth. He could pin him down and take whatever he wanted, because Nicky could see ahead of the play and Nicky was still in control. 

Alex was achingly hard and he didn't want to take him time. He twirled his tongue and jacked what he couldn't take without gagging with his hand. Nicky’s hands found their way to his shoulders, short nails digging in. “I'm gonna, Sasha, I'm-” Alex sucked harder, pulling a yelp from Nicklas and he kept sucking as he reached climax, spilling into his mouth. 

Alex was gentle as he pulled away his mouth, Nicky still rocked by aftershocks. The blond opened his eyes, favoring him with a languid smile. His eyes were hazy and unfocused and Alex felt a moment of worry. 

“You ok?” He asked, hard-on momentarily forgotten. 

“Better than ok.” Nicky smiled sleepily. “C’mere, c’mon.” He reached for him and Alex went easily, letting Nicky kiss him as he snuck his hand into the front of his pants, jerking him off with perfect tightness. “You could fuck my mouth.” He offered. 

‘Yes’, Alex thought. But he couldn't, couldn't risk hurting Nicky. “Don't want to hurt you.” He murmured between kisses. 

“I can take it.” Nicky promised. “I want to take it.” Fuck. If Nicky was going to say things like that, Alex was never going to stand a chance. Nicky was beautiful and perfect and the spark in his eyes told Alex he was still calling the shots; if he let Alex rough him up, it was only what he could handle. 

“Ok, ok.” Alex said, shucking off his sweats. Nicky was too eager to take Alex’s dick, deep-throating him with practiced ease that Alex didn't want to dwell on. He could still taste Nicky in his mouth as he watched his lips pull around his dick. 

He cupped his hand behind Nicky’s head, fingers twisted in his hair, trying to make sure he didn't hit it on the arm of the couch. Nicky groaned, eyes watering when Alex pulled harder. 

“You're so beautiful.” He said, in Russian. “So perfect.” God, he was close, his toes curling. He pulled Nicky’s hair and the vibrations pushed him over the edge, spilling his seed down the Swede’s throat. Nicky licked his lips after Alex pulled out of his mouth. Alex pressed his thumb against the corner of Nicky’s mouth, dragging it across his lower lip. He could’ve gotten hard again just on the way Nicky parted his lips for him. 

Afterwards, they both settled on the couch, Nicky fully dressed and Alex shirtless still. Nicky was half-asleep with his head resting in the crook between Alex’s chest and shoulder. “That doesn't count.” He said sleepily, voice like sandpaper. 

“Huh?”

“That doesn't count as talking.” 

“Go sleep, Nicky.” Alex kissed his forehead. 

\---

The next day, Alex drove Nicky to the rink, where the Swede was declared fit for skating, provided no more symptoms manifested. Alex worked out in the gym while Nicky skated with the trainer. Alex ended his work out early and headed out to the rink, partially to check on Nicky and partially to skate, but the ice was empty. He felt dread twist in his gut as he headed to the medical area. 

The door was cracked and Alex pushed it open, shutting it gently behind him. Nicky was hunched on the foot of an exam table, head in his hands. His feet dangled off the edge, a trash can in between them. 

“Migraine?” He asked softly. 

“Yeah.” Nicky rasped. There was a strange fogginess to his voice, like walls had been torn down around him. 

“You have shots?” 

“No. Morphine.” He mumbled, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. 

“Still bad?” Alex asked, raising his eyebrows. 

“Bad” Nicky echoed, barely even a whisper. His hair was matted down, skin pale and clammy. Alex rested his hand on his shoulder and Nicky leaned into the touch weakly. 

“I take you home. Where trainer?” He glanced around. Nicky shrugged helplessly. Alex brushed his hair back off his face. “Sorry, Nicky.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead that made his lips taste salty. 

Alex padded out of the room and conferred with the trainer that he was taking Nicky home and how much morphine did he get, because that was not how Nicky acted. Alex didn't know much about med dosages, but he knew that Nicky was drugged heavily to be as mild as he appeared. 

When he came back, the blond hadn't moved. “C’mon. Home.” He coaxed, draping his coat over his shoulders. Nicky swayed on his feet, griping Alex’s arm for support. He pressed his forehead to Alex’s shoulder, breathing deeply as he tried to stave off sickness. His heart ached for him, rubbing his back tenderly. “Is ok.” 

“Morphine...makes me...sick.” He managed, fingertips digging into his arm as he swayed again. 

“Allergic?” Alex asked, frowning. Nicky shrugged and turned away to throw up, legs threatening to give out. Alex slipped his arm around him, holding him up. A stray tear leaked down from one eye and Nicky didn't seem to notice. 

Alex loaded a drugged, miserable Nicky into his car and drove home as gently as he could. Nicky’s shoulders shook and he swallowed sobs at each pothole. Alex cursed the ineffective city government tasked with keeping their roads maintained. Nicky had played through migraines, injuries, and illness and Alex had never seen him hurting so badly, so exposed. He wanted to protect him, he wanted to never let him go. He felt horrible for making him move, but carrying him would make the dizziness much worse. Nicky gagged, dry heaving with nothing left to bring up. 

He made it as far as the kitchen, his hand clinging to the corner of the island before he couldn't hold it in anymore. He sank to the floor slowly, with the last of his self control, and held his head in his hands, sobbing. 

“Nicky, bed. C'mon, I help.” Alex pleaded with him. “Bed much more comfy, promise.” He crouched in front of him, pulling his hands out of his hair and tilting his chin up. His eyes were unfocused, lost, scared. Nicky turned his face away. “Nicky, c’mon.” Alex repeated, fear mounting in his gut.

“No.” He whispered, shaking. “Sasha, please…” Nicky sagged against the cabinet behind him. Alex hurried upstairs, finding his medicine in the bathroom and returning to his side. Gera was beside Nicky when he returned and he had a hand buried in her thick fur, his other hand covering his eyes as he shivered and shook. 

Alex injected the medicine and pulled Nicky into his arms, stroking his back. He sat on the floor with him for half an hour, waiting for something to change. Waiting for Nicky to regain his composure, if only the little bit needed to move him from the floor to a piece of furniture. 

All the while Nicky cried, shattered open like a window after a rock flew through. Jagged sobs wracked his body and words seemed beyond him. He clung to Alex, huddled close to his chest. Alex peppered him with kisses, his own eyes watering. He was afraid something was permanently scarred, that Nicky could never be able to skate again. The idea of playing without Nicky for the rest of his life...Alex couldn't stomach that. 

Nicky grew heavy and limp in his lap, overly warm and sweaty. His sobs died down to sharp sniffles, shivering with each breath. Finally, finally, he allowed himself to be shuffled to the couch, briefly derailed to be sick again. Alex pulled him down so they were spooning, trash bin within easy reach. Mercifully, Nicky fell asleep. 

Alex didn't experience that luxury. His eyes stung and his chest ached. He hoped it was just the morphine, he hoped the concussion hadn't broken Nicky like that. His beautiful, strong-willed, reserved Nicky. His Nicky, who'd never let Alex (or anyone) see him dismantled. Alex kissed his head again. Alex knew what people thought of him, that he was a leader and role model and much more. But Nicklas was the backbone of their team. He worked hard and he didn't expect, didn't want, the recognition. 

Alexander Ovechkin wouldn't be Alexander Ovechkin without Nicklas Backstrom; he wasn't sure if the inverse was true. 

He was still deep in thought an hour later when Nicky jolted awake, covering his eyes. “Ohh, fuck.” He whispered through gritted teeth. 

“Ok?” Alex asked. 

“Fuck.” Nicky repeated, groaning. “I'm so-”

“No.” Alex stopped him. “Don't say that. Nicky...you scared me.” 

“I'm sorry.” Nicky scooted onto his back, blinking blearily at Alex. “I should've brought my meds.” 

“Don't have to be sorry for migraine.” Alex told him gently, suddenly concerned Nicky really thought he needed to apologize for his brain ruining him. 

“I- I should've said no to the morphine. It just hurt so bad…” Nicky sighed. “Sorry.” He repeated, smiling thinly. 

“Nicky…” Alex shook his head. “Is head ok?”

“It's fine.” He answered, refusing to make eye contact. It was bearable, Alex translated. His brains were being pulsed in a blender, but the morphine had worn off enough to build up his walls again. 

“Bullshit.” Alex said flatly. Nicky smirked, shrugging. 

“I'll be ok.” Nicky assured him. Alex didn't find that particularly comforting either. Nicky still sounded congested and hoarse from his breakdown, his face was still pale white and tear streaked. 

“Bed?” Alex offered. The neutral mask on Nicky’s face faltered for a split second, so brief that Alex would have missed it if he hadn't spent years cataloging Nicky’s myriad expressions. He had him, he realized; Nicky either had to admit he was still hurting or try to drag himself up the stairs and get some real rest. Alex would consider either a victory. 

“Alex…” Nicky frowned, forehead crinkling. He rubbed at his face with both hands, exhaling heavily. “Can we just...not move?” He asked, eyes closing. 

“Ok. Couch good too.” Alex decided. Alex’s couches were deep and broad, large enough for the two of them if they were close. 

He turned onto his back and Nicky curled in against his side, head resting on his chest. Alex could feel the tension in his shoulders and neck, evidence of the migraine’s continued reign. 

“You need more medicine?” He asked. Nicky shook his head, hands twitching as he started to quickly fall back to sleep. 

“Just this.” He mumbled. Alex rolled his eyes, looking away so Nicky couldn't see the overwhelming fondness and affection in his face. He drifted off to sleep as well. 

It was several hours later when Alex awoke, hungry and very much alone, on the couch. He blinked to clear his mind before remembering and sitting up. “Nicky?” He called. Ovi wagged his tail in front of the fireplace and Bertha appeared from around the corner to lick his face now that he was up, but Nicky didn't show himself. 

Alex dried his face on his sleeve as he climbed the stairs. He found Nicky in his room, sitting on the edge of the bed. He'd showered and he was wearing Alex’s hoody again, the one with Alex’s family name across the back. “Nicky? You ok?”

“Needed to shower.” He said, voice flat and eyes fixed on a spot on the floor. “Didn't want to wake you.”

“You ok?” Alex repeated, taking slow steps forward, like he was approaching a feral animal. 

“I'm fine.” 

“No, you're not.” Alex countered. 

All the air seemed to rush out of him and Nicky lifted his face to him, eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed. “What if it n-never gets better?” He asked quietly. 

Alex sat next to him, dropping his arm around his shoulders. “You get better. Already better than before.”

“Worse than yesterday.” Nicky countered. “My head hurts and I'm so dizzy…” He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, turning away as he closed his eyes. “I've never had this many migraines in my life.” 

“Sometimes gets worse before better.” Alex told him as he squeezed his arm. Nicky shrugged. “What make migraine this time?”

“The lights, I think, on the ice.”

“You wear sunglasses?” Alex offered. 

Nicky smiled, drying his eyes before he looked at him. “I can't play with sunglasses on.”

“Dark visor, then.” Alex waved him off. “Same thing. Maybe start with sunglasses, so you can train. Then, dark visor. Probably won't need it that long, anyways.” Alex studied Nicky closely. He was trying hard to keep himself calm, Alex realized. He could feel his heart racing; Nicky was a professional athlete, his heart didn't race without just cause. And pain and anxiety would both qualify. 

“Migraine still?” He asked. It had been hours, at least, but once Nicky had one that went on for over 12 hours before breaking. 

Nicky hummed in the affirmative. “The sh-shot works better if you take it early.” 

“My bed very soft. Memory foam.” Alex offered, as if Nicky didn't know. As if Nicky hadn't ridden Alex within an inch of his life there, as if his fingerprints weren't etched in the memory of his headboard. 

As if Alex was simply making up excuses. 

“We need to-”

“Talk. But, brain hurts. Talk later. Bed now.” Alex guided him down the hall and pulled the covers back for him. He wasn't tired; it was late afternoon and he'd already napped once, but Nicky made his bed look too inviting and he cuddled him to his chest as he laid down. 

“Don't push me away again.” Nicky whispered, on the verge of sleep. At first, Alex thought he meant literally but then it registered. 

“I was dumb.” 

“I know.” 

\---

Nicky vaguely remembered Alex waking him long enough to force pasta upon him. He even let him eat in bed. The migraine blurred the boundaries of dream and reality, but Alex’s hand on his knee burned hot enough to tell the difference. 

The migraine, which had lessened after the shot but never really dissipated, lingered at the front of his skull. Eating was hard and focusing his eyes was harder. Allowing Alex to tuck him back in under the covers and fall asleep again was easy though.

He woke up at 5AM the next day, having slept the better part of the last 24 hours. He slipped out from under Alex’s arm and quietly crept downstairs, shushing the dogs. He felt hungover, his head aching dully and his stomach uncomfortably empty but nothing sounded good. He stopped in the threshold to the kitchen, memory coming back to him. 

He remembered, like a distant nightmare, arriving here yesterday and not being able to kept himself together anymore. His cheeks flushed hot at the memory of Alex holding him on the floor, cradling him like he was a small child. It was too embarrassing for words, especially English. 

He forced himself to eat a banana, trying to quell the nausea. Maybe Alex didn't want to talk because he was ashamed of him; Nicky was broken, after all. He was weak and vulnerable. The concussion drug all his emotions closer to the surface, though his feelings for Alex had been simmering for years. He'd just done a good job hiding it, other than last year, when things seemed too good to be true. 

Fuck, he hated that he'd cried in front of Alex. He'd never done that before. Maybe Alex wasn't into him at all. He'd always treated Nicky like he was special, had always gone out of his way to involve him. Maybe Alex just felt bad for him. 

The throbbing his head was growing, the banana rotting in his stomach. If he hadn't had both hands braced on the counter, he would've lost his balance when Alex spoke. 

“Back to bed.” He decided, stifling a yawn. 

“Not tired.” 

“Dizzy. Hurting. Stand in kitchen won't fix it.” Alex said, voice tinged with grumpiness. 

“Bed won't fix it either.” Nicky said, petulant and argumentative, skin feeling too tight and itchy. He wanted to rip it off and run free. Or maybe just run. 

Alex released a long-suffering sigh before grabbing Nicky by his arms and physically pulling him back to the stairs. Nicky staggered as the floor tilted wildly and Alex caught him. 

“Nicky?”

“I can't. Alex, you can't just- if you're gonna- I need to know. Last year, I just. I need to know.” It was not his most elegant sentence, but it stilled Alex all the same. 

“Nicky is...5:12. You want talk now?” Nicky bit his lip, looking away sheepishly. He nodded. Another sigh. “Ok. Last year, I was dumb. Got scared. That's all.” 

“Are you still…?” 

“Still scared?” Alex supplied. Nicky nodded. “I guess so. But now, worry maybe can't have you. You not want.” 

Nicky couldn't breath for a moment. “I want. You can have- I want it.” 

Alex brushed his hair back off his face, tucking a rogue lock behind his ear. “Maybe brain less scrambled, you change mind.” He chuckled. 

“I won't.” He said earnestly. Last year he'd thought they'd agreed, silently, to never talk about it again, to preserve their friendship. But that hadn't been enough to tamp down his emotions. And the concussion did nothing to keep them buried, exhuming his bothersome crush wholly and completely. 

“Is too late. Early. Whatever, dark.” Alex waved his hand. “You need sleep.” Nicklas wasn't sure he was tired, but he agreed that he’d like to lie down again. He was quiet as he let Alex manhandle him up the stairs and back to the master bedroom. Alex pulled the covers over the two of them, Nicky's back pulled to his chest. Nicky was surprised when he felt himself starting to fall asleep again. How much sleep could one person need?

Quite a bit, provided they were concussed, he decided, waking up and listening to birds chirping outside. Alex was still behind him, tracing his fingers through his hair. 

“Feel better?” He asked. 

“Yeah. Thank you.” Alex kissed the back of his head. Nicky took a deep breath, steeling himself. “I've liked you a long time.” He admitted. Alex paused, thoughtful, before rolling Nicky onto his back. Alex leaned on his elbow, studying him. 

“How long?” 

“Years.” He whispered. 

“I like you, too.” Alex told him. Alex was generous with his affections, but his tone was intimate. “First meet you and think you so beautiful.” 

Nicky felt the tips of his ears growing warm and he knew he was blushing. “I want us to be serious.” He said, trying to pick his words carefully; English could be so imprecise, especially since neither of them were native speakers. 

Alex snorted, smiling fondly. “You always serious.” He teased before settling down again. “Of course, serious. Is...only you, for me.” 

Nicky smiled at him. “Only you for me, too.” 

Alex, it seemed, could only bear the heavy mood for so long, before leaning down and blowing a raspberry against the side of Nicky’s neck, causing the Swede to laugh and pull away. 

“Alright, never mind.” Nicky said, still laughing. “Changed my mind.” 

Alex pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek. “No, stuck with me.” He maneuvered Nicky until he was resting his head against Alex’s chest. “Really better?” 

“Better.” Nicky agreed. Anything was better than yesterday. 

“Still not good?” Alex guessed shrewdly. 

“Not good.” Nicky echoed. Alex rubbed his back with one large hand. 

Nicky spent most of the day on the couch, resting. Resting, definitely not moping, no matter what Alex called it. Even if he was moping, he felt entitled to it; he'd been so close to returning and everything had tanked. 

“I don't feel good.” He mumbled, cheek pressed into the cushion, arm dangling over the side of the couch, after Alex had told him to get up. 

Alex frowned and sat on the floor beside him, one hand coming up to mess with his hair. “I know. Come shower. I make sure you don't fall.” 

Nicklas allowed himself to be steered upstairs and undressed. He didn't know if it was the concussion, the morphine, or the lingering affects of the Migraine From Hell but he didn't have enough energy to protest. 

Alex’s shower was large, with multiple shower heads and heated floors. Alex sat Nicky down on the bench and directed the stream of water at his head. Without a word, he began to lather shampoo into his hair, short fingernails scraping his scalp. Nicky let himself melt under his ministrations, leaning his head back to keep suds out of his eye. 

He felt blood slowly filling his cock, growing gradually harder as Alex rinsed his hair and shampooed it again. “You like this?” He asked, voice gruff. 

“Yes.” Nicky whispered. 

“So perfect.” Alex murmured, scratching the base of his scalp before gently tugging his hair. Nicky’s dick twitched. “You like that more?” 

“You can pull harder.” Nicky said, cheeks pink. “It won't hurt me.” 

Alex hummed and grabbed a handful, pulling firmly. Nicky was all the way hard and when he opened his eyes, he could see Alex’s thick, red cock at eye level. 

Nicky wasn't quite solid, or at least, he didn't feel quite solid. He felt like anything more and he would disintegrate and run down the drain. His muscles were too loose to hold him up anymore. Alex rinsed his hair again, tilting his face back by his hair to kiss him. 

“Stand up.” Alex told him. He pressed Nicky against the wall and began to scrub his body with the loofah, until Nicky was desperate for any kind of friction. “Turn around.” He wasn't gentle when he spun him around, Nicky’s cheek resting on the warm tile. 

Alex scrubbed him within an inch of his life, until his skin felt pink and clean. Alex ran his finger around Nicky’s rim, teasing him until pre-cum leaked down his cock and was washed away by the shower stream. Nicky tried to work a hand in front of himself, but Alex grabbed his wrists and pressed them to the shower wall, hard. 

“Not yet.” He told him. Nicky nodded, eyes only half open as he let Alex go back to teasing him open slowly, excruciatingly gently. 

“You can...be rough.” Nicky felt Alex pause, considering. 

“Want you to relax.” 

“Can't...if you keep doing that.” Nicky swallowed a moan as a second finger breached him, cock jumping, desperate for anything at all. Alex bit his shoulder, hard enough to leave an imperfect imprint of teeth. Nicky’s hands twitched away and Alex shook his head. 

“Never listen.” He frowned. “Let me take care of you.” 

“I'd rather you hurt me.” Nicky said, cheeks flaming brilliant red. He could hear Alex suck in a breath like he'd been punched in the gut. 

“Fuck, Nicky.” He swore. “Fine. You tell me if it's too much?”

Nicky remembered that Alex never crossed a line; Nicklas wasn't even sure he had lines, as far as Alex was concerned. “It won't be too much.” He promised. 

Alex sighed in his ear. “You tell me.” He repeated, impatient. His fingers had stilled. 

“I tell you.” Nicky echoed. 

It wasn't everyone that he could trust with this. It had to be someone special, someone he could depend on absolutely. He'd known Alex since he was 18. They'd played together for so long that Nicky could know what he wanted on the ice before the play. Off the ice, Alex wasn't nearly as predictable, but he was still constant. Sometimes, Nicky needed this. 

Alex was the perfect kind of pain, sharp and stinging, right on the edge of being too much. Simultaneously overwhelming and leaving Nicky begging for more. Alex loved to bite, possessive and wanting to leave his mark. Nicky let his head rest against the wall, hands still braced on the tile, as Alex fucked him with his fingers and sucked hickies onto his neck. 

Alex was talking to him, a steady stream of Russian whispered in his ear. He added a third finger, working Nicky open efficiently. He savored the burn, but he went faster when he did it himself. 

He told Alex as much. 

“Brat.” Alex retorted, biting the shell of his ear. “You so good, do it yourself.”

He didn't stop his hand, though. He pressed Nicky harder against the wall and let go of his wrists to tug his hair. 

“You like that?” Alex said. “That why you never get haircut? Like when I play with your hair?” 

Nicky nodded, gasping when Alex pulled sharply, experimentally. “Just fuck me already.” He goaded, achingly hard and desperate. Alex kissed his neck over a stinging bite. 

“So impatient.” He growled. Nicky heard the lube open and moments later, Alex’s cock was pressed against his entrance. “You good?” He asked, checking in. 

“Good, please, Sasha…” He was ready to beg for it. Alex pushed into him slowly, until he was fully sheathed. “You can move.” 

Alex fucked him into the wall, until Nicky was sure he would have bruises over his hip bones. Whatever Alex was saying, Nicky could tell it was filthy. It sounded filthy even without a translation; Alex’s voice was deep, rasping in his ear and sending shivers down his spine despite the hot water. If Nicky could get a hand on himself, he'd come instantly. He was riding a razor’s edge, so close he might be able to come just from the penetration, or at least with only the slick tile wall for friction. 

The thrusting of Alex’s hips became erratic as he drew closer. His fingers dug into Nicky’s hips. Nicky was overwhelmed by sensation, Alex was hitting his prostate perfectly each time and he was so close he forgot to breathe, so close even the tiniest thing-

Alex tugged Nicky’s hair, biting down on his shoulder as he came and Nicky saw white, coming untouched. Alex pulled out of him slowly, tenderly, washing away the lube and semen gently. He sat him back on the bench, tilting his chin up, broad shoulders blocking him from the spray. 

“You ok?” He asked. Nicky nodded, eyes heavy and muscles lead beneath his skin. He'd slept so much the day before and he still felt exhausted. “Nicky?” He prompted. 

“I'm ok.” Nicky told him, blinking sleepily. His headache had abated to a dull throbbing and he felt clean. 

“Promise?” 

“Promise.” 

Alex grinned broadly at him. “Good. I make dinner. You cut vegetables.” He decided, turning off the shower after determining they were both clean. 

Nicky wasn't sure the wisdom of trusting him with a knife, but he dutifully diced the carrots and potatoes while Alex prepared chicken breasts. Nicky slipped a couple bites of carrots to the dogs, earning their undying affection and Alex’s disapproval. 

After dinner, Alex settled them both on the couch and turned the tv to something soft and unobtrusive. He stroked his hand up and down his arm gently. Nicky wasn't use to this side of Alex. He didn't know how to bring it up, though, so he just enjoyed it, leaning against Alex weary and still disheartened with his condition. 

He’d been on the ice yesterday. He'd been able to skate. The smell of the rink lodged in his brain and he missed it. He felt like his migraines had betrayed him; the lights had never bothered him before. The fear that he may never play again always lurked in the back of his thoughts but the concussion magnified it; careers had ended over things like this. 

“Think too hard.” Alex said, squeezing his shoulder. “Stop.”

“Stop thinking?” 

“Sure. Did it earlier.” Alex teased, grinning at him. 

“I had a little help.” Nicklas chuckled dryly. 

“Big help. Lots of help.” Alex corrected him, smiling broadly when Nicky laughed. 

“Sure. Big.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Mean.” Alex pouted, before kissing him. “Don't know why I like you.” 

Nicky didn't either, but he knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

\---

Alex made Nicky stay awake until 10pm, poking him in the side when he started to drift off. He needed rest, but he also needed to stay on a normal schedule; no more melancholy kitchen conversations in the predawn hours. Finally, he decided they could go to bed and he turned off the cooking show Nicky had been pretending to ignore. 

“Bed.” He announced. 

He let the dogs out once more and followed Nicky upstairs. The blond was standing at the top of the stairs, hand clenched around the banister. To the untrained observer, he looked lost in thought but Alex knew better. His face was pale and he held the railing too tightly, like he needed the balance. He didn't give any indication that he'd heard Alex come up the stairs. 

“Nicky…” he said gently, one hand at his elbow to steady him. “Time for bed.” 

Nicky nodded slowly and glanced from his room to Alex’s. Alex tugged him gently towards his. “My bed is best.” He said simply. 

Alex felt a surge of something warm in his chest when Nicky removed his jacket and the neck of his t-shirt pulled away to reveal a bite mark at the edge of his neck. 

Alex pulled the blanket back and Nicky crawled in beside him, asleep almost as soon as he hit the pillow. Alex pressed a kiss to his head and wrapped his arm around him, holding him to his chest securely. Nicky was still there, hair haloed around his head on the pillow, in the morning. 

Alex took his time waking up, studying Nicky. The bags under his eyes had diminished and his pallor had improved. He'd known him long enough to know that he’d have to come up with something to stop the moping from returning today. He fidgeted with his phone, checking the weather and determining if it was worth the risk. 

Nicky woke up, grumpy and short, and he decided it was. 

“Head hurt?”

“Not yet.” Nicky said, eyes closed. 

“Dizzy?”

“Not yet.” He repeated. Alex smacked his leg gently. 

“Up, up. C’mon.” Nicky followed him, simultaneously curious and cranky, though he remained reserved; it really wasn't much different than usual, Alex mused. 

They breakfasted on cold cereal and then, under Alex’s guidance, bundled up. He slipped sunglasses and a hat on Nicky before grabbing leashes. The sound brought all five dogs racing to the front door. 

“Car.” He told the six of them. The dogs eagerly crowded into his SUV and Nicky frowned at him. 

“I can't go running.” 

“Not running. Just to play.” The snow and ice had melted and the sky was overcast, the temperature cold but not unbearably so. 

Nicky didn't protest anymore and didn't question it when Alex started driving without telling him where he was going. They listened to the news on the radio quietly and then Alex turned it off. Nicky reached over and turned it back on, and Alex half-heartedly chirped him for his taste in music. The Swede was distracted for a while trying to keep Bertha from kissing his ears and when he looked back up, suppressing a laugh, he paused. “A dog park? Sasha-”

“Nice dogs only.” He interrupted. “Gera protect you.” Nicky’s mouth twisted in an unhappy shape but he stayed quiet. 

The dog park was a sprawling expanse of land, with a pond and trees. The pond was fenced off during the winter and the grass was yellow and dry. Alex had a bucket of dog toys in the back of his car and he grabbed it on the way in. There were only a few other dogs and their owners there, spread across the park. Still, Alex stayed close to Nicky, passing him a tennis ball. 

“Throw.” He told him, playing tug with Chuck and Roy. Nicky obeyed, tossing the ball and watching as the dogs came barreling back to him with it, slobbering and tussling amongst themselves. Despite knowing Alex’s pack, he still backed away nervously. Alex snapped his fingers and Ovi dropped the ball at Nicky’s feet. “Best dogs.” Alex smiled. 

He kept an eye on Nicky, who played fetch until Ovi was the only one interested and Gera was resting at his feet. He'd almost turned his back when he caught sight of a flash of black, a strange dog racing at Nicky for a chance to play ball. Nicky swore and stumbled backwards, while Gera growled and her fur stood up on end. 

Alex caught Nicky with an arm around his waist before he could fall. The dog, a Doberman, pranced playfully in front of them, stretching out and whining submissively. Alex let him sniff his hand and the dog licked him before returning to his owners, who shouted out an apology. Alex waved, smiling, one arm still around Nicky. The blond had one hand clutched to Alex’s and Alex could feel him breathing rapidly. 

“Only nice dogs.” He told him again, rubbing his back. “Ready to go home?”

Nicky nodded. “Yeah.” They began the slow walk back to the front gate, five dogs orbiting them with long, panting tongues. 

“Sorry dog scare you.” He said as they reached the car. 

“It's ok.” Nicky said, not denying his fear. 

“Head ok?”

“Yeah, I'm fine.” Nicky favored him with a reserved smile. 

Alex rolled his eyes. “Sometimes you say that and you lie.” He pointed out as he unlocked the doors and gently encouraged his dogs to jump in. Nicky took his spot in the passenger seat. 

“My head doesn't hurt.” Nicky said. “Is that better?” 

“Best.” Alex laughed when Nicky shook his head, sighing. 

Nicky may have been feeling better, but the simple excursion left him drained and he fell asleep on the couch with Gera tucked in against his chest. Alex took a picture, because it was too cute to resist and set it as his phone background. 

\---

A stand of home games came and went, and Nicky was still at Alex’s. It had been over a week since his last migraine and he'd been mostly symptom free. 

He'd accompanied Alex to the rink and had skated a bit on his own before the rest of the team took the ice. Alex lingered on the bench, catching him by his sleeve when he came off. “Ok?” He asked. The dark visor looked strange on him, but less strange than he'd looked with sunglasses on too. 

Nicky flashed a true smile at him, broad and pleased, before he contained himself again. Alex expected a sarcastic response but instead he got, “I want to blow you later.” Alex sputtered and Nicky laughed, pleased by the reaction, before heading down the hall, like Alex was suppose to practice well after being propositioned like that. 

Nicky returned to the bench dressed in criminally well-fitted jeans and Alex’s hoody, a red number 8 over his heart. He then proceeded to critique Alex every chance he got, grinning when Alex flipped him off. Still, Alex didn't mind; Nicky was the only one who would say those things to him, Nicky was the only one comfortable enough to tell him when he was getting lazy. 

“How do you even score, without me passing to you?” Nicky wondered aloud when Alex skated over to the bench to get water. Alexander Semin gave a mirthful giggle and Alex sent a sharp elbow into his side. 

“I'm best.” He said simply. 

“Uh huh.” Nicky said, disbelievingly. “Can you drive me home after practice?” 

Alex’s brow furrowed. “Going home?” 

Nicky’s lip twitched minutely, betraying him. “Going to Detroit.” Alex whooped loudly, the sound echoing through the rink, and hugged him. 

Alex followed Nicky around his house as he packed and readied himself for the trip. Nicky largely ignored him, until he'd gathered his gear and had it by the door. Then, he kissed Alex, pressing him against the living room wall. Nicky’s hands worked under his shirt quickly, fingernails scraping gently over his sides. 

“Bedroom.” Nicky decided, voice low and gravelly, a sound that went straight to Alex’s dick. Alex stripped his shirt on the way there, smirking when Nicky narrowed his eyes. 

“Just helping.” He said. Nicky was eyeing him like a tiger ready to pounce, his eyes clear and sharp. The bulging in the front of his jeans betrayed his predatory expression and Alex’s gaze lingered over it. 

Nicky kissed him again, plastered against his chest. If Alex was to ever admit to imagining kissing Nicky before he had actually done it, this wasn't how he would've predicted it. Nicky wasn't some shy, uncertain flower. He knew what he wanted and he was ready to take it; he knew what he wanted and he was ready to give it. He wasn't a lost innocent, wasn't inexperienced, wasn't hesitant. Alex didn't want to know where he'd learned that, exactly, but he appreciated it wholeheartedly. 

“Take off your pants.” Nicky said, lips grazing Alex’s. Alex unbuttoned his pants and Nicky watched as the denim was pushed down his broad thighs. “Bed.” 

Alex would be stupid to argue. He sprawled on the bed, propped up against the headboard, and Nicky settled between his legs, studying him. He pulled his underwear down, so Alex was completely nude while Nicky was fully dressed, fitted t shirt clinging to his biceps. 

Nicky didn't waste time teasing him. He dropped his mouth over the head of Alex’s dick, slowly swallowing more and more of him until the head of Alex’s cock was at the back of Nicky’s throat and- when had he learned how to do that? He swallowed around him and Alex wasn't quite able to restrain his hips from jolting. Even in his vulnerable position, Nicky managed a discouraging scowl. 

“Sorry.” Alex apologized, cupping the back of Nicky’s head in his hands and letting his fingers tangle in his unruly hair. Nicky continued his ministrations, one finger at Alex’s hole, teasing it consideringly, absently even. Not that Nicky did things carelessly. 

He worked him up slowly, eventually adding a second finger. Alex was so close, almost there, when Nicky pulled his lips away. “Nicky…” He groaned. Nicky slid off the bed. “Where are you going?” 

Nicky didn't answer and Alex lifted his head to watch him strip off his shirt over his head and kick off his pants. God, help him, Nicky wasn't wearing anything under his jeans. He was going to be the death of Alex and he smiled like he knew it. 

“I thought I could ride you.” Nicklas offered, casually as if discussing where to get lunch. His cock was red and fully erect, bobbing as he moved. 

“Yes.” Alex agreed. “Do that.” Nicky chuckled and climbed back into bed with him, opening the nightstand drawer, tongue poking out from between his teeth as he picked a bottle of lube out of the mess. 

The Swede smiled at him earnestly, his cheeks rosy and his lips still swollen. Nicky without any sarcasm or distance, with all his defenses down, was one of the most beautiful things Alex had ever seen. He kissed him, because he could, because this wasn't a misguided series of one-night stands. If he was lucky, he could see Nicky like this every day for the rest of his life. 

If Alex could survive Nicklas Backstrom. 

Nicky gently pushed him back down to the mattress and straddled his hips. Carefully, delicately, he fingered himself open, pausing only when Alex reached down to jerk himself off. “Don't.” He said. “Just watch.” 

“So bossy.” Alex complained happily, settling in with his hands behind his head. Nicky’s fingers brushed his prostate and he lost his train of thought, head tipping back as he moaned. Nicky did it again, and then again, and Alex squirmed as precum dripped down his dick. 

After what felt like an eternity, Nicky spread lube over Alex and then seated himself on his cock, sliding down slowly, thighs shaking, until he was fully engulfed in him. 

Nicky’s hands, still slick, grabbed hold of his shoulders and he started to move up and down, awkward at first and then gaining rhythm. Alex lifted his head, kissing the blond, biting his lip and relishing the way Nicky’s whole body stiffened. He brought his hands up to his hair, tugging and watching as Nicky tried not to fall apart, tried to keep from melting. 

“So beautiful, Nicky.” Alex kissed into his mouth. He thrust his hips to meet Nicklas’ and the Swede groaned, cock jerking. Alex could tell how close he was by the flush trailing down from his face to his chest, the uncoordinated bouncing of his legs. He wrapped his hand around his cock and Nicklas came after only two strokes, crying out wordlessly like he'd been punched. It was enough to pull Alex’s own long-awaited orgasm out of him. 

Nicky slumped forward, forehead pressed to Alex’s, sweat-dampened hair caught between them. He kissed him, something less hungry, more sweet, than before. Alex pulled him sideways, until he was laying on the bed. They both needed another shower and the sheets needed changed, but Alex found that he didn't care. He wrapped an arm around Nicky’s waist, holding him close. 

“I can't keep living at your house.” Nicky mumbled. 

“Why?” Alex asked, more alert. 

“Because, we’ll make each other crazy.” Nicky rolled over, blinking at him sleepily. Alex pushed his hair off his forehead, tucking his behind his ear. 

“Already crazy.” Alex shrugged. 

“And you have dogs.” Nicky continued, undeterred. 

“You love dogs.” 

“Sasha.” He frowned. Alex managed an apologetic look and Nicky continued. “We should…be careful, not go too fast.” Nicky said, considering each word. 

“Already fucked.” Alex reminded him, delighting in the blush that rose in his cheeks. Nicky’s lips pressed into a thin, flat line. 

“We did that last year too. And then…” he trailed off. He looked defensive, uncomfortable and on edge, post-coital glow gone. 

It dawned on Alex what Nicky was trying to say. “You want me to date you.” He grinned. Nicky tipped his head, not arguing. “I'm best date, you'll love.” He told him, drawing a smile out of Nicklas. 

“Promises, promises.” Nicky kissed him, chaste and light on his lips. 

\---

Nicky played his first game back against Detroit. Alex felt like his skates barely touched the ice, he was overjoyed to have his center back. Nicklas carried on as though no time had lapsed, as though there wasn't a reason his visor was tinted. Alex leaned close to listen to his running commentary, sardonic and observant, as he picked apart the other team. 

Nicky passed to Alex and Alex scored. It was a beautiful, beautiful pass, flat and right on his tap. It was barely anything to tap it into the goal and throw himself into Nicky’s arms. Nicky, for his part, gave a subdued smile. 

Halfway through the game, as Alex sat in the penalty box, he could only watch as Nicky caught a stick up high. It cut his mouth and it bled down onto his white jersey and Alex jumped to his feet, before being hushed by the box attendant. 

It was only a split second before Nicky reacted, suddenly angry, and threw himself at the other player. Alex sank back to his seat, watching the ensuing scrum as the rest of the team joined in. If he focused on the noise, the yelling, he could pick out Nicky’s voice; a mixture of Swedish and English profanity that made Alex smile in spite of the fact that his team probably just drew another penalty. At that moment, he didn't care. 

After the excitement had died down, one Detroit player and one Washington player were sent to the penalty box. Alex scooted to the side to allow Nicky to sit beside him. 

“Now you just need goal.” Alex said, in lieu of a greeting. Nicky glowered at him, holding a towel to his face. “Let me see.”

He pulled the cloth down and let out a low whistle. “Might need stitches, Nicky.” He said. It had stopped bleeding but it looked deep and wide. 

“It can wait.” Nicky touched it with his fingers and winced. “Only a few minutes left in the period.” 

“I get you goal, in third. Gordie Howe Hat Trick for you tonight.” 

Nicky rolled his eyes. “Just stop taking dumb penalties.” 

Alex raised his eyebrows. “Really? I take dumb penalty?” Nicky turned his face but Alex could see the apples of his cheeks raise as he smiled.

Alex was a man of his word and he got Nicky his goal. Alex celebrated for him, shouting and cheering while Nicky remained neutral, though his eyes were bright and happy. He hugged him again, leaving an arm around him as the rest of the team congratulated him. 

High on the win, Alex didn't notice when Nicky disappeared, only that he realized halfway through his interview that he wasn't at his stall. Alex finished up as quickly and ambled into the medical room, arriving in time to watch Nicky’s stitches be tied off and finished. Nicky ran his tongue experimentally over the area.

“Suppose to keep dry.” Alex teased. 

Nicky shrugged. “You'll just have to kiss my ass then.” He said primly, smiling when Alex burst into hearty laughter and sat down beside him. 

He tossed an arm around his shoulder and Nicky leaned into him, muscles warm and tired. Alex ran a hand through his hair. “You ok?” He asked, quiet and serious.

“I'm good.” Nicky promised. 

“Good. Ice cream?” 

Nicky cocked his head, considering the offer, a crease between his eyebrows. “Is this your idea of dating?” He asked. 

“Not a date. Just you and me. Favorite person, favorite food.” Alex said easily. 

“Ice cream is your favorite food?” Nicky wrinkled his nose. “You better not let your mother hear that.” 

Alex laughed again. “Favorite dessert, then.” He decided. “Happy?” 

Nicky looked him over thoughtfully, eyes dark and piercing. Finally he smiled, settling on Alex’s face. “Yeah, I am.”


End file.
